


Motivation

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winona Kirk makes a disturbing discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motivation

"I found these in Jimmy's room," Winona Kirk said as she entered the kitchen. She was not ordinarily given to making dramatic announcements and the family glanced up, startled, from the breakfast table. Her oldest son took the proffered pages with a wary expression, then rifled through them and laughed.

"Good Lord, Mother," George Jr. said, belatedly putting down his fork. "You really had me going--I thought you were going to tell me you caught him with Deltan crystals or maybe some Rigellian porn."

"Jimmy doesn't need either of those," murmured Aurelian, not taking her eyes off the newsreader. "At least from what I’ve heard."

Winona didn't dignify her daughter-in-law's comment with a response. George was still grinning as he handed the pages back to his mother.

"It's an application for Starfleet Academy," Winona said.

"So I see," George said. "Well, if that's what he plans on doing, his days of being able to sleep till noon are numbered." He refilled his coffee cup and took a long swallow. "Surely this doesn't come as a surprise to you, Mother."

"That Jimmy is considering a career in Starfleet?" Winona's eyebrows rose. "It most certainly does. After all, you didn't."

George grimaced. "Jim and I are different people, Mother, with different motivations."

"What do you mean?" Winona said, puzzled. "Having a parent in the 'Fleet—"

"Doesn't necessarily mean the children will follow in their footsteps," George interrupted sharply. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

Aurelian put her hand on George's arm. They exchanged a long look. He tensed and then gave her a smile. Even though she didn't seem convinced, Aurelian released her grip and rose to her feet.

"You don't need to go," George said quietly.

"Yes, I do. I think this is something the two of you need to discuss," Aurelian said, drowning out Winona's half-hearted protest. "Besides, we're only going to be on Earth a few more days and there are things I need to get done before we catch that transport."

The sound of her footsteps receded quickly. Winona turned back to George, who was seemingly absorbed once more in his breakfast.

"I know that when you were growing up you were angry at your father," she said quietly. "For not being home very much."

"Ten days in a two-year period is hardly there at all," George said tightly. "Even when he was on leave, there was always some emergency call from Headquarters, or a get-together with his crewmates. He was never there when we needed him."

Winona sighed. "His duties in Starfleet—"

"—were clearly more important to him than we ever were."

"I'd thought you'd have gotten over this by now," Winona said, her own temper flashing at the resentment in his voice, still evident after all these years. "We all make choices in life, George, and if you haven't realized that by now—"

"Yes, we all make choices," George said, breathing heavily. "Dad made his, and I've made mine. You asked why I never considered a career in the 'Fleet, Mother, well, it's because I've decided my children will be the number one priority in my life. And that's why I accepted the Denevan research post—because my family will be able to be with me." His eyes strayed to the doorway of the room, through which his wife had exited moments earlier. "We weren't going to say anything yet, as it's still pretty early, but Aurelian said it wouldn't be fair if we didn't let you know before we left…"

Winona smiled, at once distracted from the previous topic of conversation. As her son no doubt intended, she acknowledged to herself ruefully. "George, are you trying to tell me you're going to have a baby?"

George grinned. "Yes, Grandma."

"When?"

"Early spring—that's according to Earth's Northern Hemisphere, of course. I would have to look it up to tell you the equivalent for the Denevan colony."

"That's wonderful! And no, the season isn't important, though naturally you have to make sure you have the right sort of equipment to suit the climate…"

George held up his hand. "Mother, I'm sure we’ll be able to find whatever we need on Deneva. The colony is over a century old and has a population of more than a million. And I'm also sure that means there are some decent doctors and medical facilities as well."

"All right, all right," Winona said in mock defeat, as she sat down. "You can't blame me for trying." She continued gamely, "They say Deneva's one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy; it sounds like a wonderful place to raise a family."

"You know you're always welcome to visit, to verify that for yourself," George said, his hand closing over hers. "And to spoil your grandchildren."

"Of course!"

Winona picked up a piece of toast, reached for the butter and then stopped as her eyes fell on the sheaf of papers once more. "You still haven't told me what you think about Jimmy's applying to Starfleet," she said, her voice carefully casual.

"Why don't you talk to Jim himself about this?" George said. "After all, he's the one who can best tell you."

"I fully intend to speak with him, make no mistake," Winona said. "I just…wanted to sound you out on the subject first."

"I don't know what you want me to say. Jim's motivations—"

"Exactly. His motivations," Winona said, and to her dismay her voice shook. "Just tell me this isn't about…"

"Tarsus." George exhaled slowly. "I don't know for sure, obviously, but yes, I think it is."

"Jimmy was only 13 years old," Winona said. Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled how close they had come to losing him. To her dying day she would regret having allowed him to go on that academic exchange two and a half years earlier. "He was just a child."

"A child who watched thousands being slaughtered. Of course that had a lasting effect on him." George got up and went to the window, as if he couldn't bear to sit still a moment longer. "He blamed himself, you know."

"For what?" Winona asked incredulously. "For surviving? For not being able to stop the massacre? He was a child!"

"When the rescue ships arrived, they found only nine survivors. Out of nearly 4,000. And those nine were all young, children whose parents had managed to hide them in the tunnels…Jim was the oldest in the group. He felt responsible for them, for making sure they wouldn't be found when the little ones cried out of hunger, for fear of the dark, for the parents they'd never see again." George's eyes met hers. "But there was nothing he could do to save them."

"Of course not! Why would he even think so?"

"And I think from that time on, Jim promised himself he would never be in that position again, never be so helpless to stop such a terrible thing from occurring."

Winona glanced down at her lap, at her gold wedding band winking in the sunlight, and consciously stopped herself from wringing her hands together. "That can't be."

"I don't know for a fact that's what Jim is thinking," George said hesitantly. "Look, Mother, I could be totally off-base—"

"But you're not." Winona blinked back the tears. "You're not."

"Mother." George put his arms around her, and she leaned back against him gratefully. "I'm sorry." He was silent for a moment. "One thing I don't understand, though. You've been a part of the whole 'Fleet culture for nearly twenty five years. You seem to have expected us to follow in Dad's footsteps. It's not like you don't know what that kind of life entails."

"Yes, I've been a 'Fleet wife—and widow—for a long time."

"What is it then? Why are you so disturbed by the idea of Jim joining Starfleet?"

"I don't want to be the mother of a hero," Winona said sharply. But even as she spoke the words, she had the sinking feeling that it was already too late.


End file.
